I rather hoped he could. I wanted to get Tyz’vel to leave me alone for good. Maybe he would when I was safely married to somebody else. In the meantime, there wasn’t that much I could do other than look for a way to send him back to Hell, again, and think of how I was going to get him back there next time he showed up.
He was clearly going to keep doing so. And I was worried what he would disrupt next. Plus, with his illusion abilities, I couldn’t be sure who was him. Or her, as I was sure he’d try that too. As if a change in apparent plumbing would make a difference.
Oh no, it would take far, far more than that to get me to pay any attention to him. Things he almost certainly wasn’t capable of.
Still. I was glad everything with the coven was resolved. Several other members had been arrested on conspiracy charges. Local wiccan leaders were screaming about how it totally wasn’t their religion.
I felt sorry for them. It had to be embarrassing to be associated with people who summoned lust imps. And it definitely wasn’t their religion, either. Free love, yes. Coercion, no.
At the same time, reading the internet postings, I thought sufficient revenge had indeed been had. And at least as an organization, they wouldn’t be hurting any more young girls or boys. More victims had come forward, and a couple of current members were now admitting they had also been forced or coerced.
Probably afraid of being cursed if they tried before. Then the high priestess showed up dead in her cell.
Tyz’vel, I thought, collecting his due. I couldn’t quite bring myself to feel sorry for her. I wanted to, but I couldn’t quite get to that point.
She deserved what she got, she’d brought it on herself. At the same time, I didn’t really want to see anyone in hell.
And I hadn’t wanted her dead anyway. Just with her teeth pulled, as it were. What could I do, though? I couldn’t take on the demon prince. And if I could, he’d probably think it was courtship.
So, all I could do was try and get on with my life. I wouldn’t have to put up with quite a few aspects of it for much longer. I wasn’t sure when my birthday was, but I could call myself seventeen now based off of the guess we had. The day they’d found me unconscious was what I called my birthday.
It wasn’t accurate, but neither was my age, I was sure. And when I turned eighteen, I’d be out of the system, free to take whatever jobs I wanted, the money would be mine instead of Mike having to take care of it for me.
I would have much more freedom. And then, if things went the way they were going…
No. There was one step I knew I couldn’t take. I couldn’t take it because I knew it would only get her hurt.